I’d actually planned to avoid this particular bandwagon, but curiosity finally got the better of me and the other week I found myself throwing my hat into the macaroon ring. I spent another rainy Sunday afternoon amusing myself by piping miniature dog poo-esque spirals of meringue mixture onto a baking tray and trying to bring sugar to the soft ball stage with only a glass of water for guidance.

Waitrose provided the recipe. I whipped out the piping bag for another showdown. And here’s the result.

Such as shame. So soon into the new year and so unexpected. Who knew you couldn’t freeze sourdough starter? Not the website I consulted (I’m mentioning no names here…)

A couple of weeks away and I lose not only the source of my daily bread, but a friend who never bothered me unless I needed him, a friend who gave and gave and never asked anything for in return apart from a simple weekly feed, a friend who was a source of entertainment and wonder and who went through a lot with me in a short space of time. I learned a lot from that starter; I thought this was the beginning (geddit?!) of a beautiful relationship.

I need to honour the passing of my first starter here to atone for the fortnight of neglect that sealed its fate. So, here’s to you, sourdough starter – thanks for all the good times: my first blooming white sourdough, the wholemeal loaf that so impressed the sensitive gluttons, a heady apricot and walnut crumb that was nutty perfection when toasted, and this sticky pistachio and date concoction that was saved from the brink of cake by my starter’s savoury roots: